


Neon Candy

by warschach



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Porn, Anal Sex, Friends to Lovers, Humor, M/M, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Smut, Threesome - M/M/M, growing up emotionally
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 05:32:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11937369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warschach/pseuds/warschach
Summary: Lance is in a bind. His bank account is a joke. He's down a job and a place to live. So naturally, he applies for a job at a porn studio. Funny how he expected to be knee-deep in guys and not in love with two guys.





	Neon Candy

**Author's Note:**

> I listed only the romantic main pairings in the tags. Obviously, the sex that happens between other characters is purely professional but I will give a pairing warning in the notes for those chapters.
> 
> This won't be an accurate description of the real porn industry, they're shady like a lot of other industries in Hollywood, but I will keep this humorous and light.

White, Lance thought, this room is white as hell. His second thought, _she_ runs this studio? By she, Lance meant the _bombshell_ of a woman collected behind a white and metal desk, typing away on a large Mac desktop, with platinum hair and a sophisticated cotton candy dress that complimented her dark skin.

She stood up as Lance approached, fixing her dress, and shook his hand. It was a firm shake.

She motioned for him to have a sit. “Hi, Lance. I’m Allura.” Allura beamed, teeth Cali white and flawless. “So first thing first, you are aware that signing with us you will be engaging in sexual activities with other men, correct?”

Did Lance mention that he was applying for a position as a porn star? Cause he was.

Lance blinked, startled by the gun-ho attitude. “Uh. Yea. I’m bi.”

She placed a hand over her heart, breathing out a relieved sigh. “Sorry. I had to get that out first,” she explained, moving a few files around on the desk.  “You would be surprised the number of guys that come in here not knowing this is a gay porn studio and that the women here are gay. They just see those dollars signs and email away.”

“So what happens once they realize it?”

Allura gathered the paperwork, tapped out it, and filed it away in a drawer. “The usual. ‘I thought I would be fucking girls.’ ‘I’m not gay.’” She clicked a pen and looked over what Lance assumed was his application. “Or my personal favorite, ‘I’ll do it but I have to be the one fucking him, not the other way around.’ It’s ironic because the guys who say that I would market as a bottom.”

“What would you market me as?”

Her front teeth chewed curiously on her bottom lip with a hum. “I would need to see the whole package,” she said. “You look lanky with your clothes on but we’ll get on to the physical aspect of this interview once we get a few Q & A’s down. That cool?”

“Yeah.”

“Awesome,” she started. “So obviously if we sign you on, you will be required to get test regularly. We practice safe sex here; anyone you will film with will be tested too.  So shit like spit roasting, rimming, and barebacking will be at your consent, we have both men tested prior to filming just to be safe. Are you okay with being a bottom?”

Brief intermission?

This wasn’t where Lance saw himself in five years from high school.

Or at any length of time.

But he was short on a few things— money, a girlfriend (who recently dumped him when her ex returned to Cali, a fact that delighted his friends and bummed him out), and job. And the following answered his recent shortage on all accounts:

_“Nyma dumped me,” Lance confessed, melting into Hunk’s couch like a deflated balloon._

_Pidge and Hunk exchanged a meaningful glance._

_Hunk was the first to ask him, “What happened?”_

_“Her ex fiancé came back. Supposedly they’re been talking and Rolo’s really changed. Bla, bla. I don’t wanna miss this chance to start over.”_

_“Damn.”_

_Pidge smacked her lips after a respectful pause of silence for his lost. “You’re not gonna try to get her back right?”_

_“Fuck no. I’m no one’s number two.”_

_Pidge shot up, gasping. “Oh thank god.”_

_Lance sent her a quizzical brow. “Wha—?”_

_“Bitch had to go,” Hunk agreed then felt awful for the insult. “She’s an…what’s a word for someone who is a bitch without saying bitch?”_

_“Cunt?” Pidge offered._

_“That’s worst.” Hunk said. “But anyway, buddy, she wasn’t good for you. Like she always wanted to eat out.”_

_“She’s vegan dude. I can’t cook vegan food so I took her to places that could,” he defended. Though he vaguely, vaguely, recalled one night where they got stoned and he may have witnessed the inconceivable and saw Nyma consume a slice of pizza. With sausage._

_Pidge crossed her arms, unimpressed. “She was a gold digger, dude. If you didn’t go out to eat, you took her shopping. And not economic Cali shopping, high end. And if she was really vegan, she wouldn’t be eating dick so much.”_

_Alright, he splurged on her more than any other guy or girl he dated but Nyma had the look of high maintenance and he was just paying that toll. Regularly. It showed in his bank statements._

_“And she called Star Wars a joke. A joke, Lance. This from the girl who swore up and down that Twilight was the successful retelling of Romeo and Juliet. That it took and I quote, ‘a deeper look into the concept of love and loyalty’.”_

_Hunk asked. “Didn’t she write an in depth analysis on it for college?”_

_Lance nodded._

_“That should’ve been the first strike.”_

_“Okay, fine. You don’t like her, I get it. But that’s not the only thing that happened this week.”_

_“So what else happened?”_

_Lance rubbed his palms together anxiously. “I kinda sorta got fired from work and kicked out of my apartment. So I kinda need to bum somewhere. Please don’t let me live on the streets.”_

_“Wow.”_

_“Dude, you have the fucking worst luck.”_

_“Wait, your landlord just kicked you out for no reason?”_

_“I was kinda behind on rent for…a while.”_

_“Because of Nyma,” Pidge deciphered, lip curled with the unvoiced insult dancing on the tip of her tongue._

_“…Yeah.”_

_“And you lost your job how?”_

_“It’s a funny story. I was busing at the restaurant when Nyma came in. With Rolo. Holding hands.”_

_Pidge slowly sat down. “No.”_

_“What did you do?”_

_“Like I said, funny story. I kind of flipped out. Poured their drinks on both their heads, told the entire room Nyma was a little puta and that Rolo had donkey balls.”_

_Pidge pressed a fist to her mouth, trying not to laugh._

_Hunk looked aghast. “Lance. That is not an adult way to deal with your emotions.”_

_“Dude, you called her a puta? You are my son, come here. I will nurse you back to health.”_

_Lance lumbered off the couch and curled on Pidge’s lap like an overgrown pup, careful not to crush the poor girl with his weight. Small arms cocooned around his broad body in a barely wrapping hug. The message delivered the same._

_Hunk’s hazel eyes showered the two with a long, reprimanding glance. Heart in it to be something fearsome but it was the equivalent of a Care Bear glaring at you. “Pidge, don’t encourage him. We do not deal with our problems like that.”_

_“Ssh.” She hushed him, laughter vibrated from the two when Hunk failed his arms up fruitlessly. “Now who’s my big boss?”_

_“Uh, me?”_

_“Yup.”_

_Lance plopped on the carpet between Pidge legs, stretching out his long legs until they vanished under the coffee table stacked with beer cans and two boxes of pizza._

_Hunk sighed. “In all seriousness though, you can live here. Just job hunt and no Nyma.”_

_“Lance, you are giving me the most hetero lady boner I’ve ever had. Tell me again, tell me how you called Nyma a puta. It’s my favorite story now.”_

_Lance laughed. “Well, once upon a time…”_

Intermission over, back to your scheduled story.

Back to the question, did Lance like it up the bum?

The audience held its breath.

Lance dropped his eyes to his mud stained converse, raking his hand hazardously through his hair. “Yeah.”

“Top?”

Um, duh, who didn’t like their dick to be squeezed and sucked into a warm, wet hole—

Lance twiddled his fingers, bounced his knee. “Yup.”

Allura made a note on the application, smacking her lips. She flipped the page, lifted her blue eyes playfully on Lance. “How about using dildos, vibrators, nipple clamps, bondage, latex, rope, cuffs, lingerie, fleshlights?”

Granted Allura probably saw more cock and ass than Lance would in his entire lifetime but how did she manage to say those things out loud, without squirming? Just answering truthfully made him blush like a maiden and Lance was a pervy guy. Jerked it frequently. Joined in on one threesome with a guy and a chick during his brief time at college. Checked out chicks and dudes on the sunny beach on the regular, mind wild with the visible flesh and the non-visible. A kinky but tasteful kink search on Google— moneyshots, rimjobs, bondage, etc.

So like the word virgin was as far from him as Canada.

“…Yes.”

“I know you filled some of this out on the app but I like to double check, some people just check everything to get an interview.”

He nodded. “Well like I only used uh…”

“Dildos?” Allura offered.

“Sorry like I know this is part of the job but it’s so weird to talk about this with a stranger. But yea…that,” he stammered. “I never really tried the other stuff. I would be willing.”

“I like that. Open to possibilities. And people like bondage virgins.”

Something would be open…like his assh— Lance, no time for jokes, be legit, be a sex machine.

You need rent money. Your bills aren’t paying themselves. We won’t touch on the debt you owe to the university either.

Hunk couldn’t support your ass indefinitely and neither could Pidge, at some point, you have to grow up.

“That’s a thing?”

Allura’s smile at that did one of the following— aroused him and sent a preemptive message to his brain that he might want to brush up on today’s popular kinks. “Honey, everything’s a thing. So your experience, you put down limited. Care to elaborate?”

For all his sexual experience, zero of it was on a camera not attached to an Iphone or his laptop.

“Does Skype count?”

“Were you on video?” She asked.

“Yea, with my boyfriend.”

Allura made a note. “Okay, so what did you do?”

Lance’s face went expressive with incredulity. “You want me to just say it, like to your face?”

“Lance, there’s no more for modesty in the sex industry. It’s cute at first but to last long here, you need to get over that.”

He clapped two hands over his face; this interview was going at a disastrous rate. No experience. Could barely form the words, _yes I would like to be fucked in the ass on camera and probably by anything else cause I’m two things, horny and awfully close to an economic depression._ “Sorry. I’m getting used to it.”

The kindness in her face felt almost misplaced but Lance greatly appreciated her patience. “That’s alright, sweetie. Now, when you were skyping your boyfriend what did you do?”

Lance focused on the memory, it wasn’t anything kinky as Skype sex went. The usual dirty talk, _do you want me to touch myself, is this getting you hard, I want your cock_. The lazy flash of his body to the screen, his hard flat stomach, the long shaft of his cock, the nice swell of his ass. It was as amateur as it got but he couldn’t be sure Allura would count it as porn _porn_.

He wiped his mouth and mumbled. “Touched myself. Chest, stomach, dick and ass.” These were actual words leaving his mouth, good lord.

“So you kind of performed for him basically? He watched and you acted.”

She was so casual about this. Not that she shouldn’t with her career choice but damn, people normally didn’t speak so nonchalantly about what you did while jerking off via Skype.

Lance flushed, praying he didn’t spontaneously combust on the spot and set Allura’s clean, white office and the professionally framed photograph of two male models shackled in an exotic but tamed lip lock aflame. “Pretty much.”

Yup, yup.

Fucked myself, let him watch, the whole shebang.

Allura drummed her nails and picked up the pen. “It’s an audience so I’ll count it.” The tip of the ball point scribbled over his file. He warred with himself on the idea if seeing her notes would crush his self-esteem or elevate it.

Maybe crush, he saw the line of guys in the waiting room. Beefhead after beefhead, they made men like Thor and Wolverine look small and meek by comparison, and all Lance had was a flat belly, visible hipbones, and enough upper body strength to bench press two hundred on a fantastic day, and a pretty exotic face. There were a few twinks but anyone could acquire the slim build without too much trouble as long as your genetics favored your bones thin and delicate.

Two small to be a hulk but too big to be a skinny, fuckable twink.

Should he just flush his application or?

 “When you have sex here, it will be in front of a whole crew of men and women.”

“I used to play football so I can manage a crowd.” It was basically the same premise, right, performing well under a large microscope.

Right?

No, not right, anyone could toss a ball.

You had to get hard and stay hard in front of Ted, Ned, Cindy from makeup, Jerry who worked the lights, and that one guy Felipe who observed a bit too intensely for his job to be considered a job and not a career choice. The people behind the camera weren’t kissed by the stars like the ones on the other side, so maybe the guy fucking you got you revving but everyone else…

Lance braced for the correction. Maybe a, _you’re not cut for this, kid_.

“Good,” she said instead.

Lance stared as though she spoke another language until she moved on to his headshots. “Your headshot, that’s being used very liberally here, are decent. The lighting is eh. The camera is pretty generic but you look good. A real professional would make you look great but, again, passable.”

“Yea. I kind of took those myself so.” Good to know any career as a photographer was dead.

She laughed. “At least you’re honest about it.”

“Is that everything?”

“For this portion of the interview, yes. Next is the hard interview and I’m pretty sure you can guess why.”

“You want me naked?”

“Naked. To get hard. Cum on command. Then get hard again. And cum again, on command.”

Lance hopped to his feet. “Right here?”

She shook her head, giggling “No. It’s in another room.” She grabbed the receiver and punched in a sequence of numbers.  “Ezor, I have a guy for you.” Allura hung up.

A few minutes later, a girl with multicolored hair peeked her head through the gap in the door. Red, purple, orange, yellow flowed like a waterfall over her shoulder. Her outfit was as colorful and carefree as her hair, a sheer kimono paired with a white cotton blouse and black slacks.

She leaned on the door, swinging it. Jewelry decorated her wrists, ears, and her long, white neck. “I heard you got me a gift.”

Allura loosely gestured to Lance. “Take Lance for room C.”

Ezor slid her eyes up and down his body once for pleasure, and the second with a critical eye. Pleased, she motioned Lance over. “Alright. Follow me, handsome.”

“You’re not coming?” Lance asked at the door.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll watch your performance later this week. I still have a few more candidates to interview. You’ll get a call if I like what I see. Good luck.”

 

 

[x]

 

 

Ezor closed the door behind them, the bangles on her wrist clanking loudly at the thinnest of motions. Another white room. A camera stationed on a tripod watched the center of the room where the studio lights beamed on the empty space.

Ezor squeezed his arm lightly and guided him in front of the camera. “I’m pretty sure Allura told you but this is the make or break moment.”

“I get naked you mean.”

Her hair danced around her sharp face as she nodded. “That and hard. Maintain it. I’ll tell you when to cum.”

Color rose at light speed on his cheeks. “Okay.”

Ezor stepped over to the side of the room, opened a drawer, and handed him a tube of lube. “Some guys like to rub dry but it looks better for the audience if you look wet. Get me?”

“Yea.” Lance took it, internally psyched up his mind.

Just jerk it.

Unload.

And you done, boy.

Simple.

Ezor’s kimono swished behind her, floating on air, as she went to set up the camera. In the emptiness of the room, her jewelry twinkled, the material of her pants rubbed together, and Lance’s heart did a marathon in the measure of a second. The soft lights above him reminded Lance the time he played football, the crowd, the dewy grass, his lungs protesting as he pushed harder and harder.

All eyes on him, telegraphing every move. The women wild and the men seething with jealousy and rage since half of them couldn’t figure out if they hated Lance because he was good, or because his face was pleasing.

Lance had been a star until the injury.

Was a star in college too, booksmart. Loved the sciences of space and planets until his mom got sick.

Now Lance was that twenty-five-year-old working shit jobs while he promised himself to do something meaningful with his life once the world got settled.

So his prospect as an NFL player sank. His dreams to suit up in a space with the earth a distance orb and the heavenly planets as his moon tanked.

One area he never failed—sex.

Copper skin and blue eyes did wonders on people, made them all weak around the edges and sweet for him. Made the girls and boys s _ing_ — the symphony of Lance, the violins of breathy moans, the heavy bass of throaty groans.

_Lance, Lance._

_Yes, yes._

_Don’t stop, don’t stop_.

_Baby, you’re good._

_Baby, faster._

_Baby, harder._

_Baby, right there._

Thinking Lance had a case of stage freight, Ezor lifted her head from the screen, a flirty sentence on her pouty mouth, only to let it shrivel up because the last thing in Lance’s eyes right now was fear. Nah, sex swirled in them. Bedroom eyes. Eye fucking potent enough to warrant birth control for the mind.

Lance watched the camera and started a hand down his chest, feeling himself intimately. Dragged it slow. Ran it so his fingers so carelessly brushed his nipples through his shirt and gasped breathily like a virgin. Looked back at the camera and did it once more with a toothy smile, the canine denting the flesh.

People loved a virgin. That blush. That coy, kitten innocence.

What drove people wild was a cocky slut. That fucking polished knowledge in the roll of their bodies. That wicked moan on their lips.

His fingers ended to the hem of his shirt and lingered there, knowing the audience ached for it. The tease of pubic hair. The swell of cock. Lance lifted it an inch, his belly button dark with pubic hair.

He dropped it—tease your audience, rule one of his unofficial _how to sell your body for sex_ guide.

Rule two, know your strengths; Lance had no six pack or eight pack but his torso had that angular stretch to pour expensive champagne down it. He enhanced it, back going bow like, and trained his hands to follow the exotic curve up.

Up his sternum. Up to the bones of his collar. Up his neck and into his honey brown hair. Ruffled his locks so they fell messily over his eyes, a smile gracing the action like he was having so much fun and joy teasing and  playing with his own body.

Lance licked his lips, parted wide enough for the camera to capture his tongue rolling back in his mouth, and performed the crossed arms shirt strip he had seen a thousand times in films.

His sweats hung _low_ on the points of his hip, dark above the waistband with hair and defined with the shape of his pelvis.

 He balled the shirt in his hand and aimed it mischievously for Ezor.

She was digging the sale. Her fingers skimmed her lips in a flirtatious fashion. Desire shimmered in her eyes.

His hands moved back to his chest and did what the viewer behind the lens couldn’t and wanted. Skimmed. Touched. Groped. Pawed. He angled his body elegantly. Shifted his hips to add a _bad to the bone_ edge.

He was hard by now, cock swollen and showing against his sweatpants where it curved proud. Nipples in a similar state because you catered to the hungry tops who wanted a frisky bottom and the slutty bottoms who wanted a dominating top.

Dipping his thumbs under the elastic band, Lance teased the fabric, inched it down to expose his cock trapped in his boxer briefs. He cupped himself, eyes sliding shut in pleasure with an airy moan. His hands grew hungrier, liking the feed, liking that feel of the tease—hand on the fabric. Never quite as sweet as skin to skin but sweet as it pumped a person with lava hot pleasure and purple desire. 

Soon even the tease was too much for him so he messily yanked down his boxer briefs until it stretched at the girth of his thighs and started pumping. Starting digging the idea of eyes, paid eyes, watching him get off by himself. Liked when Ezor subconsciously bit her lip.

With the empty room, Lance heard himself. The wet pump of his cock once he slicked up his hand with lube. His labored breath huffing out his mouth. The whiny moans and husky groans because it felt so good. Felt so hot to be watched.  And he wanted to cum bad, knew exactly where to play with himself to do it.

But he couldn’t.

His climaxes weren’t exactly his to have freely anymore.

The noises milked out of him under the purposeful denial of his orgasm, weren’t anything he would classify as human or dignify.

Lube and pre-cum slicked under his palm as he pumped up and squeezed the head. A breath hissed out of him. He felt hot enough to burn. Definitely wet enough to prune his skin.

He switched hands and brought the lube and pre-cum glossed one to his mouth, making fucking _eyes_ —predator eyes, I’m the shadow on the wall eyes, I’m the whiskey on your tongue eyes— at the camera, and stuck his tongue out and licked. Like a dog, flat tongue dragging languid on the skin.

Ezor watched the screen. “Now, cum.”

Oh god, thank you, sweet angel.

He went full throttle, fucked his hand without mercy or technique or style. His stomach hollowed right before cum spurted over his fingers and on the floor. Lance made a show of watching his own hand glide over the softening shaft, with a soft groan.

Ezor stopped the recording and handed Lance a box of wet wipes.

He blushed and pinched a sheet and ran it down his hand and the tip of his cock.

“How was my time?” He asked, breath haggard. Sweat glossed his chest like a diamond filter but he could live with it. Cum on his cock or hands, not so much.

Ezor re-shelved the container. “Decent. Like five minutes.”

“How long do you want guys to last?”

She bobbed her head side to side in thought, the data swirling in that head full of Manic Panic hair dye. “Ten to fifteen. You shouldn’t feel too bad a lot of guys either can’t get it up like you or they finish within seconds of touching themselves.”

Huh, who would’ve thought an active sexual would benefit him in acquiring a job.

“Do I have to go again?”

“Yea, sometimes we make the guys cum a few times. Allura likes to have options. One guy could be making a weird face. Or Allura wanted cum on his mouth and not his forehead. Oh yea, get good at aiming too.”

“Wow. This job is insane. How do you do it?”

“Well, it’s nice to watch pretty guys get it on. I get to work with awesome people. There isn’t the same competition in filming pornos like there is with movies and shows. And porn never goes out of style,” she said. “And you get used to the body parts. I literally see dicks all day so none of this is a big deal. Wanna try again?”

“Uh, sure. Anything you want me to do?”

“Hmm, do you wanna use a butt plug?”

Lance blinked. “If you got any—“ His words died off when Ezor skipped excitedly to a tub of dildos and vibrators. “Of course, you have a tub.”

“I’ll give you a baby one unless you would like something bigger.”

“Baby. I didn’t think I would be using that.”

“No worries.” She deposited the toy easily into his palm. “Get comfortable on the floor and I’ll adjust the camera.”

Lance toed off his pants and boxer briefs and rolled himself on his back, propping up his torso with one arm. He parted his legs.

Ezor held up a finger for him to wait and ran to move the studio lights. “Okay, lemme check. Good, much nicer. Okay, feel free to start again. I’ll tell you when to cum.”

 

 

[x]

 

“Alright, you should hear from us in a week or so if we like you. Any longer and forget about it,” Ezor advised.

“Thanks.”

“And just between us, I think you would a great fit. Allura has the final say in everything so if you can’t get anything here, try other places. Or go into modeling, you got the face and the height for it.”

Lance lowered his head, hand running through his hair. “Dunno about that but thank you. This is interesting.”

“Take care, Lance.”

“Back at you.”

Ezor sighed. “Now I have to go film a threeway.”

 

 

[x]

 

Allura slumped in her chair, groaning loud with exhaustion.

Ezor knocked right before walking inside and carried a bag from Wendy’s. “Girl,” she shuffled the paper bag in front of Allura’s face.

“Oh my god. No.” Allura turned her face. Resist, girl. Resist.

“I got you chicken nuggets,” she sang, shaking the bag. Sweet, sweet traces of fried goodness floated up Allura’s nose and roused a disgruntled growl from her stomach.

Allura ripped the bag out of her hands and rummaged through the inside of it like a starved animal while she cursed Ezor. “I hate you. This is going straight for my ass. You’re the worst.”

Ezor rolled a chair over and pulled out her order of nuggets and fries and laid them out on the desk. “Live a little. You could die tomorrow so it won’t matter if you had some fast food.”

“Literally nothing takes to your body,” Allura complained.

“I know. My ass is small and so are my tits. I want your curvy body.”

“I want a smaller ass.”

Ezor pinched her arm. “Shut up. You’re a ten. Now eat.”

“Fine.”

“So how’s it looking?”

Allura chewed. “Well, there’s Eric.”  She licked her fingers before moving the mouse on the screen and clicked on the video file labeled as such. The recording started of a man, tall and chiseled Cali tanned with small eyes and a thin lips.

“Eh,” Ezor shrugged. Guy had the ideal shredded bod everyone adored but his time and face left a lot to be desired. He came under a minute. “No stamina.”

“He’s buff. Shiro is our buffest guy.”

“Shiro’s got that daddy vibe. This guy could wear a paper bag on his face and no one would care.”

Allura snorted. “You’re so mean.”

Ezor threw her arms out wildly, words distorted with food. “Stop me when I lie. And he can’t last, two pumps and he’s done.”

Allura opened the next video file. The next guy was Dante. African American. Short. Boney. And a cute face that revealed his young age of nineteen with soft gray eyes.  A limited background in stage acting and modeling. “Dante’s young. Zero experience though. No headshot. He’s a better bottom than a top.”

Ezor nodded in agreement. “Yea. He’s cute. But young guys are kind of a gamble. They get wild with the lifestyle and go off the deep end.”

“So far you’ve said nothing but counter arguments. You've already picked a guy, who?”

She smiled. “Lance.”

“Him?”

“Allura, he so perfect.” Ezor read the counter on Allura’s face and started to list off the reasons before she could get any wind. “One, Latino. Two, colored eyes. Three, he can switch like Keith. Four, he came three times. Three, Allura.”

“He was kinda bashful.”

“Did you watch his audition, he is not bashful when he gets into the zone.”

“He’s older though.”

“So was Shiro and he’s one of your top earners.” She stood over Allura and fiddled with the mouse.

Allura said, “You’re getting grease over the mouse.”

“My hands are clean.” She opened Lance’s file and flopped back into the seat with a fat Cheshire smile. “Now, watch again.”

“You’re going to make me watch until I agree.”

“Look,” Ezor tapped a finger on the clear screen. “Look at all that hotness right there. Finger lickin’ good.”

Allura watched once more without a critical eye of a CEO, producer, and co-director and with the lens of a viewer. Lance commanded attention, stole it, placed tape on your eyelids and ironed your body into your chair. The knowledge of his own body wasn’t something polished and marketed by Hollywood and something groomed from personal experience. He rolled his hips unrefined. Dark. Messy. Sloppy. But in a very captivating way.

He knew when to tease. Knew to be assertive. To be slutty. Loud. Soft. Whiney.

Other guys came in and parroted every porn known to man. Played the same moves; stroke, stroke, pump, pump. Used the same face; eyes shut as if in pain, head tilted back.  Groaned out the same phrases; fuck, there, ah, ah.

Lance wasn’t a mirror.

He fucked the camera. Made it his lover and Allura felt the attention given as much as to his body as to the camera. Like Lance wasn’t just there to be nasty and get off, he wanted the person on the other side to feel as though this whole show was for them.

He did it in his sultry smiles.

Did it in his galaxy blue eyes.

Did it in how his hands dragged and caressed all parts like a lover would. Where the viewer would want to tease him if they had the opportunity.

Did it in his thrust, in his grip that pumped his cock.

Did it in how his rolled to his elbows and knees and swallowed the girth of the bullet plug. In his breathy little moans. In his pleading face, asking the viewer if they were pleased.

If they liked it.

If they could give him more.

Give it hotter.

Harder.

Wetter.

Ezor asked again after the clip ended. “So?”

Allura opened a drawer and unearthed a manila folder and flipped it open to an application. She scribbled ‘hire’ on the corner and wrote a note to call the next day. “Last time you picked a guy, we got Keith.”

“And that boy thrived.”

Thrived was an understatement, Keith killed it on the fucking screen. He went from the guy who performed solos and garnered a measly hundred views to the poster child of their website. Bad boy Keith broke Shiro’s and Lotor’s staggering records. Was constantly requested by other studios to patriciate in gangbangs, threeways, and even some guy on girl.

When he came in with nothing but a high school diploma and a few years of college and zero skills in human to human dialogue, Allura wanted to boot him. He looked like trouble, like attitude, like he would tell Allura to eat piss and shit if they disagreed. In truth, Keith was reserved. Nervous. And in a position of economic decline.

He did well enough in the audition for Allura to watch it to completion but she had her fears. Bad stars hurt a business and at that point, they were finally starting to make a good profit for themselves as a studio. She didn’t want some punk to fuck up her hard work.

Ezor pleaded with Allura to give him the job.

And if she was getting the same feeling as that time, then maybe Lance was worth the gamble.

“So I’m betting on your instinct again. You better pray he does good or I’m docking your pay.”

She tossed her head back with a laugh. “Admit you think he’s a little cutie. It’s not like you’re cheating on Shiro by admitting Lance is hot.”

Allura hushed her vehemently with her eyes wide in horror. “S-shut up.”

Ezor scanned the room. “We’re closed, girl. It’s not like he’s here to hear how much you like his butt. Or his eyes. Or his coc—”

“Stop, he’s my employee.”

“So? I’m pretty sure half the boners he has on set are cause of you watching him,” she teased.

“Oh my god, let’s go home. I can’t look at another cock.”

“Pfft, what a lie.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> *ignores my growing pile of WIPs* 
> 
> fuck it, i'm writing a porn fic, leave me alone.
> 
> tumblr: pro-derp


End file.
